The Mantis
by TheNightsWithSalem
Summary: The group will sail soon to Lazulis Island and Dagran decided to celebrate spending the night in sweet company. But is it a good idea? Of course not... (Rated M for some allusions, but I'm not completely sure of it)(Takes place one week before the events of the game)


_**That's it! I've come up with a new recipe!  
... did I say recipe? I meant "story"! Silly me. Anyway, it took me eons to finish this first part of four, but I don't want to bore with the details. Unfortunately, you will have to wait for the end of March to read the rest of this story because I'm very busy with a contest here in Italy.  
Just one more thing. Do you see the (crappy) cover? I made it, with the little help of a cosplayer compatriot that allowed me to use one of his photos as a reference.  
Of course if you find some errors, tell me and I'll fix them**_

 **A good night**

He did it.

After many years of efforts, Dagran was finally close to his goal. The secret notes that he had found the day before, about that power called Outsider, had lit in him a hope that he did not feel for so long. And then the mission that Lord Cyan had suggested him...

 _On the island where that power is hidden, at the service of Count Arganan no less. And that bastard of Asthar will be there too: what a stroke of luck!_

To work for such an influential person would allow him not only to improve his social status, but also to approach the murderer of his family with ease. Such a thing deserved to be properly celebrated, and for this reason he had decided to use a part of his nest egg to spend the evening in pleasant female company. Now it was almost a year that he didn't visit a brothel, and certainly his left hand would not have felt betrayed if the work was done by someone else, and in a more engaging way, just to change.

While continuing along the road leading to the port, Dagran roamed with his mind to a few hours earlier, when he had told to the others about their next job. He was so enthusiastic – for his standards – that he had not even complained that he had to wait for Lowell's return to the inn to communicate to the whole group the news, and as he had foreseen, Zael and the others had shown themselves excited at the thought of working for an influential person like the Count Arganan of Lazulis.

All except Yurick, as usual. However, Dagran was sure that as soon as they received the generous reward – and the appointments to Knights, if he could manage the matter well – even the young Mage would finally show some enthusiasm. At that point Dagran found himself in sneer. Maybe he should have brought Yurick to the brothel, so maybe the boy melted a little and showed that he had in his body another kind of fire besides that he created with magic. For sure the girls there would have appreciated what he and Lowell had discovered about the boy at the hot springs of Bastia.

"What a waste! If only he would allow me to teach him my techniques, he could use it to the great..." his friend had commented that time, among other things. Even Dagran was surprised, but he had left the matter quickly: for what he was concerned, he was satisfied with his own body and did not feel the need to compete in that sense, let alone with a kid!

After passing a series of narrow alleys, he found himself in a circular square full of stalls and with an obelisk in the centre. At the bottom of the street in front of him, he could see the ships anchored at the port, while on the left, partly hidden by the roofs of the houses and the warehouses, there was the promontory on which stood the lighthouse. Following the indications he received, he slipped in the street parallel to the one leading to the port and travelled half of it, then he turned to the right at an old wash. The building he was looking for was just ahead, and he recognized it all too well. That spectacle was simply disgusting.

Going in search of nights of passion, he had happened to visit the most disparate brothels and the one which stood before him was without doubt the most shabby of all. The walls of the building, perhaps white long time ago, were scuffed and filled with patches of undefined nature. Shards of tiles dropped from the roof and various dirt surrounded the place like a ring of filth, and even if he was still distant from the entrance, Dagran still managed to smell the stench of sweat, piss and poor beer that crushed the interior. If Lowell had been next to him at that time, he was sure his friend would have pulled him out of weight and then ran away from that abomination... and he would have let him do it, maybe urging him to run faster. And to think that they had told him that it was the best brothel of all Westwing!

 _Maybe for ragamuffins or low-league mercenaries..._

After a further look, he realized that in fact it was just like that. Most of the men and women he saw through the half-unhinged windows and at the entrance, customers and not, were real human wrecks, and those few who were not seemed cutthroats or people that had seen far too many swords and battles in their life, judging from their scars and the sheaths to the belts.

Dagran's face twitched in a grimace. He didn't know why they pointed him to that place in particular, if they were convinced that he could not afford any better or just wanted to mock him, but one thing was certain: they had ruined his evening. It was late now; he had no time to look for another place, and he didn't want to even come close to that receptacle of scraps of society in front of him. If that was his only chance, then he preferred to give up his project for the evening and settle for the usual solo hand work.

"I doubt you'll find what you're looking for in there."

A female voice roused him from his thoughts. Turning around, he noticed that a young woman had approached him and observed him with interest. She was tall like Syrenne more or less, with long and wavy hair like the warrior, but dark instead of red, and tied in a low tail. A light make-up highlighted her green eyes and the dark dress she wore was simple and unadorned, but of good quality. She was pretty nice, with something familiar, even though he was sure he'd never seen her before... and she was extending her hand to him.

"My name is Samara, but friends call me Sam" she introduced herself.

Dagran arched an eyebrow. A woman approaching a stranger much bigger than her in an alley like that? It was clear that she wasn't from the brothel, but he still found it strange.

"I am Dagran," he replied after a moment of hesitation and grabbed her hand "and now tell me: how can you be so sure that what I'm looking for is not there?"

"Let's just say that you look like someone who wants something better than that" Sam said with a half smile. That attitude left him perplexed. Which was her purpose? Was she hitting on him? She must have guessed his thoughts, in fact she hastened to explain:

"I'm sorry, maybe I was a little cheeky. It's just that I had a bad day and thought I'd cheer up doing something crazy. I came here to... well, you can imagine... only the place is not like I expected at all» she concluded pointing the brothel with a worried look.

"Yeah, it gives a bad impression" Dagran nodded.

The two remained silently staring at the sad building in front of them, then Dagran turned to Sam again. She was studying him with interest, especially his muscles in plain sight, trying to not getting noticed, but without too much success. Dagran straightened himself as much as he could and tried to give himself a demeanour.

Since it had been very hot during the day and in the evening promised to do the same, before going out he had took off vest and shirt and had put the old mail on, sleeveless and shorter than the regular ones. And unfortunately Lowell noticed it.

"Finally you start listening to me and put the merchandise on display, huh? The ladies will certainly appreciate it!" the Mage had commented with a smile when he had seen him go out. Dagran had rolled his eyes at the sky and left without even answering him. He didn't wear it with that intention, but in the end, maybe Lowell was right about the effect it could have.

Thinking back to the friend's commentary and Sam's words, Dagran came up with an idea. Maybe a little weird, but there was no harm in trying.

"Well, so much for being cheeky too, if you don't want to risk in there, you can come away with me" he said aloud.

Sam gave him a puzzled glance.

"What do you mean?"

"We're both here for the same reason, right?" explained Dagran. "Maybe, since we don't want to go to that dump, we could make it by ourselves."

At that point Sam opened her eyes wide in surprise.

"Hey, we just met; don't you think you're running a little too fast? I'm not one of those!" she exclaimed pointing to the dump in question.

"N-neither am I, if that's why!" Dagran answered awkwardly. "I'm just saying that you would be safer with me, and you shouldn't even pay."

She first looked at him baffled, then turned him a sneer of mockery.

"This is the worst approach I've ever witnessed! You don't know about women, do you?"

Dagran didn't answer. In fact, apart Syrenne and Mirania, who were a particular case, he didn't speak very often with women, unless it was for work reasons or to meet his needs in bed. As long as it was about organizing the days, preparing strategies or dealing with potential customers, he knew how to get by in an excellent way, but with everyday chatter, away from the battlefield and thinking about having fun, Zael and the others were better than him. Heck, even Yurick was better than him at it!

The only things Dagran did, in addition to fighting, were drinking and polishing weapons. Actually he was a pretty good blacksmith too, as well as a warrior, but he could practice that art only when he found someone who needed help in his forge and trusted a mercenary, and as a topic of conversation it was not much. For sure Sam wasn't interested in knowing at which temperature the iron melted or which alloy was best suited to make a sword.

At that time he regretted he never paid attention to Lowell all those times his friend had tried to teach him something about wooing.

 _Maybe I should really start listening to him..._

Meanwhile, the silence between the two had become more and more embarrassing for him. Dagran was going to let it go, tell her not to mind his words and move away to save that crumb of self-esteem that had remained to him when Sam began to giggle.

"Gosh, I didn't think that was enough to put a guy like you in trouble! I bet you'd rather I'd meet you wielding a sword, wouldn't you?"

"I admit that in that case I would have made a better figure," he sighed "but now the damage is done. I hope I didn't offend you."

And to think that as a child, when his parents were still alive, he had no problem talking to the girls, even though he was rather shy at the time. He wondered if that change in him was due to the terrible traumas he had suffered or the simple fact that he was now a man...

Sam shook her head.

"No offence" she answered. "However you are right: I am here for a reason, and under the circumstances, I think I will take the risk and come away with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. After all, I know a good opportunity when I see it» she replied looking him up and down with a mischievous smile that soon after Dagran returned.

"In that case, I can assure you that you will not regret it" he said to her approaching.

"Great. What do you say then if we leave this place and go to a more comfortable one? I know a place nearby where we can sit still."

That said, Sam walked away from him and went up for a bit along the way before turning to him again.

"Come on, let's go! In the meantime, we could improve your approach with girls a little bit" she said winking at him. Dagran didn't make her repeat it to him.

 _I think I'm going to have a good night after all._

* * *

"How did you find this place?" Dagran asked looking around. He was still standing at the bottom of the staircase, while Sam was already halfway to the first floor, with the candle just illuminating the empty environment.

"My mother and I came to this inn every time we passed by Westwing, when it was still open" she told. "After the death of the owner, Marley, they abandoned it because some strange things started to happen. Screaming from empty rooms, thing changing places and stuff like that. It was believed that Marley's ghost roamed the inn in search of his murderer."

Sam stopped a few steps from the landing.

"Yes, he was killed in his room, stabbed in the heart. They never found out who did it or why, and because of the many incidents now people are so afraid of this place that even beggars stay away from here... at least at night. However, I have never seen or heard anything."

"Have you kept coming here despite the rumours? Congratulations for your courage" Dagran commented reaching her.

"Thank you," Sam replied, "but I bet you would have done the same too. It was a comfortable inn after all, and now that everyone believes it's haunted, I can sit here in peace as long as I like. And more than courage, it was a matter of curiosity: I wanted to see if there was something true in those voices. I think it was just someone who for some reason wanted to shut down the inn, but I can't say it for sure. Maybe we'll never know the truth..."

Upon reaching the summit, Sam led Dagran to the last door of the landing.

"It was the only one open the first time I came back here after the closure, with the key still in the patch" she explained as they entered the room, then she closed the door and began to light the lanterns on the walls. Unlike the rest of the inn, covered with dust and cobwebs, that room was clean and tidy, with a large bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small armchair next to an old fireplace. Near the fireplace was a door that probably led to a small private bathroom, but Dagran didn't care it much, too busy observing some objects that seemed out of place in that room.

"Are those yours?" he asked, pointing to the two daggers resting on the chest of drawers. Instinctively he brought the hand to his side, near the little dagger which he kept hidden in the cloak. One thing he had learned over the years was that the owners of brothels didn't like armed customers, but at the same time it was always better not to be totally helpless; for that reason he had that dagger with him instead of his swords that evening. Sam barely glanced at the blades, then continued to light the lanterns.

"The fact that nobody comes here except me doesn't mean it can't happen. In such cases, I don't want to get caught unprepared."

Dagran relaxed for a moment. In fact, she was right. Once she turned on all the lights in the room, Sam came back to him.

"Well, now that it's all set, how about we get more comfortable?" she said, and then began to untie the laces of Dagran's mail with deliberate slowness. He let her do it, studying all her movements. When he could take off his mail, he dropped it to the ground. He felt a certain satisfaction seeing Sam's smile widen while she observed his body.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked in a low voice. She merely nodded without even looking up. Great. Dagran then slipped his hands under the shoulder pads of her gown and helped her to get rid of it, leaving only the underwear on her. He also liked very much what he saw. Sam put her hands on his chest and began to drum her fingers on it.

"The answer seems obvious to me, but..." she said looking into his eyes "You are a warrior, right?"

"I am a mercenary" Dagran replied. He gently probed the shape of her hips, then, placing an hand on her back, he drew her to himself. Their faces were so close they could feel every smallest breath, the bodies clenched against each other.

"Is it a problem?" he asked her with a whisper, bowing his head more and more.

"I would say no" Sam answered a moment before Dagran shut her up with a kiss. At first it was delicate, then became more and more passionate. Dagran felt her hands flowing over his body; one clawed his back, the other went up his chest to his neck and then through his hair, almost ripping the ornamental feather. He did the same, putting in more delicacy than his usual. He had always been impetuous when he made love, but with her he didn't want to take risks: as she had said before, she was not "one of those". Sam clutched him, her arms round his neck, her legs around his hips, and Dagran, without ever detaching his lips from hers, carried her up to the bed with decisive steps.

 _Yes, definitely a good night._


End file.
